Carey's the first to leave, locking himself in the study to write a report for Martin - or Hal, PK guesses. PK busies himself cleaning up, as much to do anything as anything else, before finally giving in and going into the study.

"How's it going?" he says, sitting down at the desk.

Carey glances up at him. "Not good."

PK considers, for a second, if he really wants to try to force Carey to talk about it. But he thinks he probably doesn't have much of a choice, since they're partners and he needs to know, so he says, "Yeah?"

"I don't know how to explain it." Carey makes a face, like admitting it pains him. "I've been in on complicated operations before, things that went south quickly, dangerous things." PK knows, since he's read Carey's file, but he doesn't say anything. "I've never done anything like this."

"The vampires are a little extreme," PK says.

"I've worked on cases with vampires," Carey says. "Back in BC. But this - I've never worked on anything like this."

PK does his best to sift through what Carey's not saying. The conclusion he arrives at is sort of worrying: Carey's scared.

"Hey," he says, awkwardly sitting down. "We'll figure it out."

Carey blinks at him. "Seriously?"

"We will. You're the best at this, and I'm -"

"The best at figuring stuff out."

PK smiles. "Sure, I guess."

Carey taps a finger on the desk, shifting his gaze to the far wall. "I just don't understand how Mortimer's doing it," he says finally. "Vampire magic, fine, he made a breakthrough there. But what does this have to do with smuggling Dark wizards? What kind of power grab is he trying to make? How does he release the power, and what does he do with it?"

"Those are all really good questions," PK says. "And we'll figure them out. Just put what we know in the report."

Carey frowns a little, then says, "I'm not going to put in replicating the vampire magic."

PK blinks. "Why?"

"I'm comfortable with Hal knowing. But the office..."

PK doesn't get it. "The Aurors should know. Even if they're not supporting us, we still have responsibilities."

"I don't want to be pulled on this assignment," Carey says. "And I just..." He reaches out and grabs PK's upper arm. "Look. Can you trust me on this? You know I'm not lying, you should be able to feel it. Just trust me."

PK doesn't know why Carey's asking him to, when he's implying that he wants PK not to trust the Aurors - his friends, coworkers, and the entire organization he trusts his life to. But he also knows that Carey has his reasons, and PK trusts Carey. He has for awhile now.

"Okay," he says finally. He's not going to insist the Aurors are trustworthy, just also negligent. They can have that fight later. Leaving out the vampire magic doesn't, right now, negatively affect what they're doing enough for PK to have a problem with it. "Leave it out."

Relief courses through the curse. "Good," Carey says, which is as close to 'thanks' as he's going to get right now.

"No problem," PK says. "I'm going to write my part."

"Paper's over there," Carey says, pointing at the other desk.

"Thanks," PK says, and retrieves it.

He writes his section of the report quickly. Writing reports was his forte before this assignment, and he and Carey are just being honest, minute the last couple hours. So there's no real reason he can't just tell the truth, make it concise, and then hope for the best from the Aurors headquarters.

That almost quashes the Carey-like cynicism he feels as he seals his report, with both adhesive and magic.

"What do you think about tonight?" he says when Carey finishes writing.

"You just want me to act like an idiot again," Carey says.

That's as close as they're going to come to acknowledgement of what happened, PK's pretty sure. "Maybe," he says, smiling. Then he adds, more seriously, "But I mean - we have a lot to do. And there's Melissa."

Carey hears the unspoken question and says, "I think we can trust her. Crazy though that is."

PK nods. "But I mean, she's volatile. You said so yourself."

"I know," Carey says. "But being volatile doesn't mean she's untrustworthy. I wouldn't trust her with pulling off a big operation, but she's doing her own research. It's our job to keep her safe."

That's fair enough, from where PK's sitting. "Okay." He takes Carey's now-sealed report and puts it in the tray along with his. "So," he says. "We should plan for tonight."

Carey leans back in his chair. "No real way to," he says. "Liam didn't let us know what to expect on purpose."

PK knows that, but - "We ought to be able to do something."

"We have our covers, we've been staying at home preparing to do more evil," Carey says. "That's pretty much it, really."

PK can't help but think that working undercover is both more boring and more exciting than he expected. "And if someone tries to kill us?"

Carey's smile is pretty creepy when he says, "We try to kill them back."

"Okay," PK says. "Well, I'm going to go make dinner."

"Sure," Carey says. He stands up. "I'll help."

PK blinks at him. "Really?"

"They can see into our windows. It's very domestic."

Now Carey's smirking, and PK is really, really glad Carey can't see all the blood rushing to his face. Or his dick. "Right," PK says. "Let's go, then."

They end up making pasta - the Wizarding way, of course, because doing it the Muggle way would be a sure sign they're imposters. Carey spells the water to boil and the pasta to cook, and PK spells the vegetables to chop, and they both make the sauce. It's all assembling when they go out into the living room. Unsurprisingly, it's empty.

"I wish we could get her counseling," PK says. He picks up a book. "I just...I think she needs it."

"Probably," Carey says. "You're awfully attentive to her, though, so who knows?"

PK blinks at him. "What?"

Carey raises his eyebrows. "Nothing. You just really care about her being all nice and happy, apparently."

"She's an innocent witch who was kept prisoner for a year. How should I feel about her?"

Carey holds up his hand. "You're doing the right thing." His tone is completely different - less sarcastic, PK thinks. "Never mind."

Sometimes PK wishes Carey was less of a good liar, or less complicated, or at least more honest. Even if then he wouldn't be Carey. "Okay," PK says. He focuses on his reading.

The time for them to leave comes way, way too soon. PK feels like he blinks and then someone's knocking on the front door.

Carey opens it with his robes billowing intimidatingly. Liam smiles at them. It's not a very nice smile. "Come with me," he says, and holds out a small candelabra.

That's dramatic, PK thinks, but he reaches out with Carey and takes it. Liam snaps his fingers, and then they're whirling through the Portkey with its usual nauseating effect.

They stop in the middle of a ballroom, which PK takes note of as he's stumbling around to recover. He does it quickly - he hasn't traveled by Portkey often, being from Toronto, but it's not new to him - and says, "Well, this is fancy."

It both is and isn't. The chandelier is covered in cobwebs, and the walls are full of faded tapestries. PK has no idea where they might be, or if they can Apparate away. He's pretty certain they're not going to risk it, though.

"That's one word for it," Carey says. PK turns to look at him. His hair is a little messed up, but his expression is bored. "Can we move this charade forward, please?"

"Of course," Liam says.

Mortimer materializes directly in front of them.

PK almost doesn't gasp, then remembers his role and says loudly, "Merlin's ears!"

"Very impressive," Carey says. "What did you call us here for?"

"Now, now." Mortimer's face might as well be granite, for all the expression he's demonstrating. "I don't think that's any way to speak to your employer."

"Maybe not," Carey says, "but if you were hiring us for pretty manners, you wouldn't be hiring us."

"Your partner's pretty enough."

"Kev thinks so," PK says. "Anyway, what's all this about?"

Mortimer glances over at him, then looks away dismissively. Good: let Carey keep his attention. One of them should be making sure they're not being surrounded, or worse.

"This is about Gillian, and Hinton, and McKinnon, and Laraby," Mortimer says.

Dark wizards, none of them particularly impressive. "You're smuggling more wizards," Carey says.

"Something like that," Mortimer says. "Tell me, what do you know of răsplată?"

"Nothing," PK says.

"I figure you'll enjoy explaining it, though," Carey adds.

"Indeed," Mortimer says. "Răsplată is a certain concept of revenge. The Children of the Night embrace it, and hope to enact it. Of course, like most apocalyptic or religious imaginings, it stays a fantasy."

"You mean vampires," PK says.

"The term seems rude, but yes." Mortimer reaches into the neckline of his robes and pulls out a twisted metal pendant that PK recognizes from Melissa's drawings. "This is răsplată."

"I'm sure this is redundant, but you're a wizard," Carey says.

"Naturally," Mortimer says. "I never said it was their răsplată."

PK's starting to suspect Mortimer is just a little nuts. But he's also in charge of quite a few terrifying wizards, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"And what does this have to do with us?" Carey says.

Mortimer takes the pendant off. "I found this," he says. "The Dark wizards, as you so accurately identified them, have died. At first, the amulet only took a small amount of magic. Now, it takes magic and a wizard's life force, if I will it." He lets go of the amulet and it hovers in the air, then floats over to Carey.

PK very deliberately does not panic.

"I want you to work out what makes it tick," Mortimer says. "Colloquially speaking. I want to know how to make another. It's imbued with four wizards' power, yet only allows me a bit at a time. It seems to have its own mind. I want to control it, and I want more like it." His jaw is set, and his eyes might as well be burning. "I will have my revenge, gentlemen. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Carey says. He reaches out, seemingly without any fear, and grabs the pendant.

PK has a second's warning over the curse before Carey tosses the pendant to him. PK catches it, feeling the power like a physical shock through his body. "Very nice," he says, inspecting it showily.

"You have a week," Mortimer says. "If you don't give me results, I will be...displeased."

He Apparates.

"Well," PK says. He turns to Liam. "Do we need the Portkey?"

"Do you not have questions?" Liam says.

"Not really." PK shrugs. "We're good with magical artifacts. Portkey, please?"

"The artifact is keyed to him," Liam says. "Tampering with it or stealing it -"

"We're aware of how artifacts work," Carey says. "But if you don't give us the Portkey, we'll probably try to Apparate. And since we're not Mortimer, I suspect it'll be messy."

"Oh, fine," Liam snarls. He pulls the candelabra out and hands it to PK. Carey grabs on immediately, Liam snaps his fingers, and three whirling seconds later, they're standing outside their house, without Liam.

Carey hefts the candelabra. "Let's go inside," he says.

Once they're safely inside, with protection spells cast, Carey says, "I wasn't expecting that."

"That's comforting," PK says. He means it a little sarcastically, but only a little. "So...what do we do?"

"Figure out his amulet," Carey says. "Then not tell him, obviously."

But PK's thinking, and he's pretty sure he has a better idea. "Hey," he says. "We're experts at magical artifacts, right?"

"As our cover, or really?"

"Either."

"Yes."

PK lifts the candelabra. "Then maybe they shouldn't have left this with us. How do you feel about figuring out where Mortimer's base is?"

Carey's entire face lights up. "Yes," he says. "Merlin's balls, yes." He grabs the candelabra and then laughs, saying, "Tabarnak. Yes."

PK laughs at the Muggle cursing, then says, "Let's get to work."

Their humor fades pretty quickly. The magic on the Portkey is complex enough that PK knows they're not going to crack it before dawn. That means that if Mortimer rotates his base nightly, then they've lost - but then, PK thinks, Mortimer is vain, and that was, it seemed, a nice mansion. So maybe not.

Melissa comes into the kitchen at five AM. PK's following the tangle of charms to the core of the spell, and just as she says, "I see you had a busy night," Arithmancy-coded coordinates appear on the piece of paper he's been using.

"I've got it," he says.

Carey's head jerks up and he says, "Yes."

"You've got what?" Melissa says.

"A key," PK says. "We know where Mortimer is now."

"Probably," Carey adds.

Melissa's expression is unreadable when she says, "Well, that's good."

"It is." PK pauses, looking at her. Then he adds, doing his best to be gentle, "We'll bring him in for justice."

"I don't doubt that," she says with a narrow smile. "You'll do it if you can."

"We also have this," Carey says with deliberate casualness, and moves the pendant from its position hovering under the table.

She recoils. "How did you -"

"Hey, it's okay." PK holds up his hand. "He gave it to us. This is our job, now, it's what he wants us to do for the next week."

"But instead you're going to hunt him down."

"That's our job," Carey says, echoing PK.

Melissa is very, very pale. "Then I wish you luck, and may God have mercy on you," she says, and turns on her heel, leaving.

"We should go to bed," PK says when Carey doesn't break the silence. "I think she was hungry, and we need sleep."

"Should we pay Mortimer a visit tomorrow night?"

PK grins. "You read my mind."

"Good," Carey says. "Let's go to bed, then."

PK can't help what he thinks, any more than he can help broadcasting it. Carey stiffens, shoulders going still. PK winces and says, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Carey says. His voice is very steady. "Come on. We need sleep."

Carey stays on his side of the bed that night. PK gets why.

When they get down to the kitchen in the morning, an array of objects are lying on the kitchen table. There's the candelabra, two strips of knotted twine, two smooth gray pebbles, two ballpoint pens, and two handkerchiefs.

PK's not surprised when he looks beyond the table and sees Melissa standing there. She's pale, but she looks resolute.

"I'm guessing these are for us," PK says.

"Not that we need them," Carey says.

"Of course you don't," Melissa says. "But only an idiot would deny protection and concealment charms, and that's what I'm giving you."

PK blinks at her. She sticks her jaw out and adds, "I have a vested interest in you both coming back safe, remember."

"We'll take them," Carey says. "But we're eating breakfast, first."

He says it with a kind of humor that Melissa gets, if her smile is any indication. She backs off and lets them make breakfast - well, lunch; they're eating sandwiches. When they're done, though, she says, "The candelabra will take you to and from Mortimer's with a tap of your wand. The handkerchiefs are for concealment; you can put them in your pockets. Wear the twine around your wrists for deflection of hexes - not perfect, obviously, but better than nothing. The pens will warm up if magic is being worked nearby."

"The stones?" Carey says, pocketing the handkerchief and the pen. It makes sense to carry them around before they leave, PK guesses, so he takes his too.

"The stones will kill you if you swallow them." Melissa looks calm. "They'll also kill anyone else who swallows them. Use them wisely."

PK thinks about her imprisonment, having her magic stolen. He doesn't say anything, just pockets one of the stones.

Carey takes it in stride, too, saying, "Thanks."

She nods. "I'll leave you to it," she says, and leaves.

"Think she's getting ready for our failure?" Carey says.

"Oh, for sure," PK says.

He can feel a frisson of excitement. It's kind of how he felt yesterday, only more intense - he wants to do this, he realizes. He wants to go into danger and investigate and, hopefully, get closer to figuring out a solution for this whole mess.

When he looks at Carey, Carey's smiling at him. "What?" PK says.

"Nothing," Carey says, but he's still smiling. "You're really getting into the job, huh."

"Well, it's...maybe," PK says. "Anyway, let's go over the case one more time. Just to be sure."

They basically waste the rest of the day, neither of them willing to acknowledge the nervousness they're sharing in the curse. When night falls, Carey finds PK in their bedroom and holds up the candelabra. "Ready?"

"Yep," PK says. He fastens his cloak on, and he and Carey cast cloaking spells on each other. Then PK reaches out and grabs the candelabra, Carey taps it with his wand...

And they're standing outside a massive mansion, set on a hill overlooking a whole lot of nothing. No trees, no water; just waving grass, as far as PK can see.

He's not going to analyze where they are. That's pointless and not what they're there for at all. Instead, he nods at Carey, and they creep towards the mansion together, with wands out.

They see people a few times, warned of it by the warming of the pens. The wizards - they're all men - are easy to dodge, though. They break into the mansion by the simple act of slicing a magical hole in the wards and slipping open a window, and as they tumble soundlessly to the floor of a musty study, PK gives thanks for the fact that Mortimer, apparently, has only the weakest of wards.

The mansion is full of narrow, twisting hallways and rooms filled with sheet-covered furniture. They search methodically, covering the first floor and then the second, communicating mostly through the curse. When they get to the third floor, though, they're faced with a wide hallway and light flowing from the room at the very end.

PK glances at Carey, who nods at him. Together, they creep down the hallway, stopping twice and flattening themselves against the wall when a lackey walks past them.

PK mostly doesn't look at the light at the end of the hallway, wanting to preserve his night vision; that means, though, that when he and Carey slowly peek into the room, the light is almost blinding.

Mortimer is sitting with his back to them, talking to the fire, which is glowing green: Floo, then. "I want to know that our agreement stands. I have too many balls in the air to worry about a sudden weakening in your resolve."

"As ever, I stand to profit from your harvest," a reedy voice says. "I support you, as do many in my department. You won't encounter any substantial resistance as long as I'm in charge."

PK's knees almost give out in shock; it's only Carey's steely hand on his arm that keeps him from falling over. He knows that voice, has in fact heard it more days than not, for four years. It's Martin.

A wave of feeling roars through PK, from both him and Carey. But Carey looks absolutely controlled when he pulls out the candelabra. PK takes it, and a moment later they're standing in their bedroom again.

"Not a word," Carey says, casting protective spells. PK takes his cloak off and then sits down heavily on the bed. Martin is - PK thought - PK's not sure what he thought, only he didn't expect betrayal this huge. He remembers Carey trying to talk about it, and PK's own faith, and feels sick to his stomach.

"PK. Merlin's - fuck, PK." Carey collapses on the bed next to him. At least, PK thinks hollowly, Carey also looks surprised, at least a little.

"I knew something was up," Carey says. "I didn't expect this."

"We have to go," PK says. "Don't we? We can't stay undercover with this happening."

"We need to blow our cover," Carey says.

"On purpose?"

Carey nods. "And then, hopefully, not get killed."

"What about Melissa?"

"I have a safe house in Montreal proper. No one knows about it, not even Martin." Carey spits the name out, clenching his hands into fists. PK himself is shaking a little; he's glad Carey hasn't pointed it out. "We'll go back to our normal beat, and we'll figure out a way to put the bastard in L'extrémité. Permanently."

L'extrémité, the Quebec wizard's prison, is a place Dark wizards don't tend to leave. The top level of security is magical solitary confinement, cutting someone off from their magic and leaving them in a room without anything, even light. PK's not a fan of it.

Right now, he hopes Martin rots in there.

"We'll figure it out," Carey says quietly. "You know we will."

"Sure," PK says. "Right, of course. We'll figure it out."

He knows he sounds sarcastic. He just can't help it. He's so furious, and he doesn't know what to do with that, or how to stop being mad.

"Hey," Carey snaps, "have you forgotten we have a job to do? Pull it together. We have about six hours to get Melissa out and then blow our cover, so how about you stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking of ways to do it?"

The first stern word jerks him out of his reverie, and the next few sentences send his mind whirling. When Carey finishes, PK says, right on the heels of the last of Carey's words, "That's all the time we need. Melissa can Apparate - you can show her how to get there, I know you'll have stuff set up so someone can get to it. All we have to do is have a conversation in the lawn by Liam's house."

"And how do you suggest we get out of there?" Carey says.

PK shrugs. "If we make them think we're part of a rival organization - an Anglo one, I mean, look at us - they won't know where to look. We can Apparate to my place."

"What makes you think that'll work?"

"Melissa," PK says. "If she can spell us a bunch of trinkets, she can manage a single Apparation-masking charm. And they know now to look for her."

Carey leans away from him. His expression is pretty frankly appraising, and PK manages to be really pretty pleased with himself.

"Guess we'd better get going," Carey says, and stands up.

He doesn't offer PK a hand, but whatever he read into PK's words was apparently enough for him. Somehow, him turning his back and walking downstairs without waiting for PK is more comforting than anything else possibly could be. Especially given the solid certainty coming through the curse.

He follows Carey quickly, in time to see Carey sitting down across the living room from Melissa and saying, "We have to get you out of here. Now."

PK sits next to Carey on the couch, so still he's worried he's going to snap in two, while Carey explains the situation. He half expects Melissa to lose it, but as soon as she doesn't, he's embarrassed. She takes the news with the same practicality she's demonstrated with everything else, nodding and saying, "I can make you that charm. But we should do it now."

"I don't disagree, but why?" Carey says.

"Liam's home," she says. "Oh, stop it, don't look over there. You know he can't see me. But that doesn't mean he's not still suspicious of you two." She pulls out her wand. "I can make the charm extend throughout the property and hold it for twenty minutes. Go outside already." She waves a hand.

Carey and PK look at each other. PK can tell, thanks to the curse, that Carey's doing a quick tally of their stuff. They only have to Apparate with an extra charm beforehand, and their things will disappear, too. Melissa has instructions to get to the safe house. For all that it's been an hour since they got back, everything's done and they're ready to go.

"Let's go," he says when he realizes Carey's waiting on him. "No time like the present, right?"

"Of course," Carey says. He stands, and PK leads them outside.

They've rehearsed what they'll say with Melissa. "Dick wants a report," Carey says in English as they circle the property to stand close to Liam's lawn. The protection spells on the yard are virtually nonexistent, and PK feels a prickling at the back of his neck that means they're being watched. Or listened to.

"So tell him we're getting there," PK says. "If he wants the charm, he needs to be patient."

"I don't think he knows the meaning of patience."

"Then he can learn." PK shakes his head. "He's not going to move in on Mortimer's gang this quickly. He needs to calm down."

"Incendio!" someone yells, which is all the warning PK gets before he and Carey are diving to the side and clapping their hands together, Apparating.

For a moment, PK's in so much pain he's certain he's been splinched. But then he stumbles to his feet in Carey's apartment, and he realizes that he's fine, and so is Carey. Their stuff from the apartment is surrounding them, and no one's trying to kill them, so Melissa's charm must have worked. In fact, there's nothing at all that's wrong.

Except that the bond is gone.

"Keyed to location," Carey says.

At least Carey can still read him fairly well. Then again, they went a long time without any magical curse to help ease things along. Somehow, now that he's in Carey's apartment, that's much easier to remember.

"Yeah," PK says. "Wow."

"Sit down," Carey says. He waves his wand, clearing off the couch, then goes into his kitchen.

PK half wants to follow - sure, Carey's more used to undercover stuff, but PK's not an actual child - but suddenly, sitting down seems like the best idea anyone's ever had. He settles heavily onto the couch, rearranging himself five or six times because he suddenly doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin without the echo of Carey in the back of his mind.

When Carey comes back out, he has two tumblers of alcohol. "Vodka," he says when PK looks at him inquiringly.

Wizarding vodka is better than anything, and more calming besides. PK nods and takes a sip. "Thanks."

"Any time," Carey says. He takes a long sip of his, then says, "Coming down from all this will be weird."

"We have to tell Martin our cover's been blown."

"I sent him the code word in the kitchen," Carey says. "So if anyone tries to kill us tonight, we'll know why."

He sounds dry, but PK can't help but say, "If you'd rather I went home -"

Carey's already shaking his head, though. "We thought you'd have to stay here because of the curse, but the truth is, coming out of being undercover is weird, even when it's not that long. And it's not like the Aurors will give you the psych evaluation you should have. Stay here. My couch has a Transfiguration charm, all I have to do is tap it and it'll be a bed."

There's no reason for that statement to make PK's throat close up. They were sleeping in the same bed as a cover, and PK's loneliness since he moved away from his family, to Montreal, all mixed up with the way he felt about Carey at that house in the suburbs - all of that is beside the point. "Thanks," he says. "I'd like that."

"Good," Carey says, "because that's what's happening." He pauses, then adds, "Look. It's not just for you."

PK looks at him. His voice is reluctant and he's grimacing, but mostly, he looks calm.

Then again, PK's been riding alongside Carey's emotions for awhile now, and he knows what Carey can be thinking and feeling even when he looks this calm. "We'll keep each other from losing it, then," PK says, and raises his tumbler in a kind of salute.

Carey smirks and raises his, too, then knocks his entire drink back.

Carey's not a drinker, and neither is PK, really; but that night, they kill almost a full bottle of vodka, and neither of them even ends up that drunk. It's the tension, PK thinks; he knows he's going to sleep late tomorrow. It'd be nice if he could trust that he wouldn't be able to, because mediwizards would be swooping in to evaluate them. But he's not going to fool himself like that. Not anymore.

A little while after three in the morning, Carey says, "I have to go to bed." He stands up, looking unruffled except for a little flush in his cheeks, and his red lips. PK stares at him for a second. It occurs to him that he could kiss Carey - rather, that he can think about kissing Carey, and there's no way for Carey to know. There's no way for Carey to realize he's thinking about pulling Carey back down on the couch, straddling him and kissing him until they're both hard and desperate for it.

"Goodnight," PK says, turning away. "I'll set the bed up," he adds.

"Yeah, good." Carey sounds distracted. PK keeps his back turned until Carey's gone, tapping the couch and watching as it folds out into being a bed with thick, plush covers.

PK doesn't jerk off or anything. He casts a few hygiene spells and goes to bed. Normally he'd go through the motions of brushing his teeth, but right now he doesn't even want to risk running into Carey.

He's had enough to drink that he falls asleep quickly. When he wakes up, it's almost two PM, and the animated, magical calendar over the hearth informs him it's Saturday.

That's probably good, since it means they have a few days to figure out what to tell the office. PK's definitely not looking forward to them, though.

When Carey comes out of the kitchen, he's carrying a tray with two plates of eggs and tall glasses of orange juice. "Reinforced with all kinds of stuff," Carey says, passing PK the orange juice and ones of the plates of eggs.

"Thanks," PK says. He takes it, not really feeling hungry but knowing he should eat.

Five minutes later, the food is gone and he's halfway done with the orange juice. "Wow," he says, leaning back.

"Undercover's like that," Carey says, not even looking at him.

"I can tell," PK says. "Do you do this all the time?"

Carey shrugs. "I spend more time on assignments than not."

That's - PK's not going to think too hard about it, because it's sad, kind of intensely so. Instead, he says, "Well, I appreciate the food," and gets up, grabbing his and Carey's dishes.

He sets them to wash themselves, then comes back into the living room. Carey's got a scroll out and is reading it, frowning.

"Trouble?" PK says as he sits back down.

"Maybe," Carey says. "Martin send this over by owl this morning." He passes it over.

PK skims it. It's more adamant than anything he's ever gotten before, but that doesn't mean it's bad news. Well, maybe it's bad news. "He's not happy."

Carey fills in the gaps for him by saying, "He knows he can't say anything about us, since he didn't support us at all. But you're right - he's not happy."

"So what do we do?"

"What do you think?"

"We do what we can," PK says right away. This is kind of a no-brainer. "We take our assignments, and we try to come up with enough evidence to implicate him in the meantime."

"You're right about that," Carey says.

"Thanks," PK says. He's not really being sarcastic, but he can tell by Carey's half-hearted glare that Carey's not sure about that. "Seriously," he adds, taking pity on Carey. "It's not like I have a lot of experience doing anything but pushing paper."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Carey says. He frowns at PK. "You're a smart Auror. When all this is done, you'll come on assignments with me again."

"Sure," PK says. "I don't have low self-esteem. But you still know more."

Carey glares at him. PK looks back, not really knowing what to do. He's trying to demonstrate a mutually respectful partnership, not get glared at.

"Fine," Carey says finally. "Anyway - you're right. All we can do is take his assignments. So for now, we grovel a bit, and then we go into work Monday."

"And in the meantime, we lay low."

"Exactly," Carey says. His lips twist with distaste when he looks at the scroll.

And PK knows exactly what he can do to make things better, here. "I'll write it," he says. "As soon as I finish my juice."

Carey relaxes minutely, leaning back into the couch. "Thanks."

PK doesn't quite manage to not think that the whole exchange would have been easier with their old curse. But he puts it out of his mind as best as he can in favor of writing a response. He makes it cheerful, and for the first time in weeks, doesn't dumb himself down. He also doesn't let on to the fact that they know about Martin's various betrayals, though. He owls it by four, and then goes back downstairs to the living room.

Carey's asleep on the couch, an open book about rodeo on his chest. PK smiles a little, around the stupid twisting in his chest that he absolutely did not ask for. He puts a cover on Carey, then goes upstairs. There's a Muggle television in Carey's guest room, and PK's really not interested in doing anything more complex than watching entirely non-magical people live out life's problems in almost-realistic detail.

He orders dinner. It's delivered at almost nine, at which point he wakes up Carey.

"Gah," Carey says. But when PK waves his lo mein in Carey's face, Carey sits upright and snags it.

"Thanks," he says. He shoves some in his mouth, then spends several minutes eating in silence. When he's done, he aims his wand at the kitchen and says, "Accio water."

A bottle of water flies into his hand. He takes a deep drink.

PK waits until he's swallowed to say, "We need to find a vampire."

Carey chokes on nothing. "What?"

"Melissa's trinket - which we need to get from her, by the way, even if I do have the original - anyway. It's vampire magic, which means Mortimer has to have had some contact with a vampire."

"I doubt they were friends," Carey says, frowning.

PK looks down. Carey's toes are poking out of the lumpy, crocheted blanket, curled up so tightly it looks uncomfortable. "Sure. But they still talked. If we talk to a vampire or two, maybe we'll get some leads on Martin."

"Easy as that," Carey says.

"I never said it was easy," PK says. "But we should still probably try to do it."

"Probably," Carey says. He finishes the water, then summons another bottle. "I might actually know where to find a couple."

PK's mouth doesn't fall open, but only because he's pretty sure that's a clichéd type of thing that doesn't actually happen much. He's stunned, though. "God," he finally manages to say. "Of course you do."

Carey smirks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're insane," PK says. "Really and truly."

"Uh-huh," Carey says. "So do you want to go meet her, or not?"

"Her?" PK says, already standing up and heading out to get his coat.

"Her," Carey confirms.

They both put on their coats, toe on their shoes, and Apparate to the address Carey gives. It's a Muggle bar, the name of which PK doesn't catch before Carey's hustling them inside.

"Will the coats offend her?" PK asks as they walk down the long bar, past the tables full of people in comfortable t-shirts, all the way to the back of the bar.

"No," Carey says shortly.

The woman at the very end of the bar turns. She looks normal, PK thinks: short brown hair, in her mid-30s, with pale skin. But when she smiles, PK's vision flickers, and he can just make out fangs.

"Hello, Carey," the woman says in French. "Who's this morsel you've brought me?"

"My partner," Carey says. He sounds completely unconcerned with PK being relegated to the position of food - but PK doesn't miss the way the woman leans back in her chair a little. "PK, this is Caroline."

"Caro," Caroline - Caro - says. She smiles. This time, PK can see her teeth clearly. "All my friends call me Caro."

"PK." PK hesitates for a bare second before sticking out his hand. If she decides to eat him, he might be fast enough to stop her. Her having one of his hands won't affect that much. "And I'm not a morsel," he adds, because what's a little suicidality in the scheme of things?

She actually laughs, smiling widely and shaking his hand. "Good instincts," she says. "Now, Carey, tell me why you've brought yourself and another Auror to my bar."

There's a threat in there. PK's not surprised when Carey doesn't delay before saying, "Mortimer."

Caro doesn't blink.

Carey sighs. He looks bored, to PK, but PK's not dumb enough to think that façade is genuine. "Jacques Martin."

"The head of the Aurors." Caro looks bored, too. PK doesn't know if that's fake or not. "Why are you naming men to me?"

"Did I say Mortimer was a man?"

She shrugs, the movement uncannily fluid. "They usually are." She picks up her drink and sips it. For the first time, PK notices how red and viscous it is - not enough to be completely blood, but enough to send a shiver down his spine. "So," she says. "You've found some trouble with this Mortimer."

"Enough to last me awhile."

"I know the name." She drains her drink and twitches a finger. The bartender walks over - under a thrall, PK's pretty sure. "We all do."

"Any particular reason for that?"

"I'll open us a table." She picks up the drink the bartender gave her; PK just catches the bartender tucking a bloody wrist away. She spelled him not to look, he realizes. "You two, order drinks. Etienne is very obliging." She stands and leaves them at the bar.

PK pretty much figures she's going to compel people away from a table, too. He doesn't want to watch it. Instead, he and Carey signal the bartender. Carey orders whiskey on the rocks; PK, feeling flustered, gets a beer. He realizes as the bartender sets it down in a plain glass that he has no idea what beer he even ordered.

"Come on," Carey says. "She's waiting."

"I can wait," Caro says in their ears. It's only PK's Auror training, and also a kind of lack of survival skills, that mean he doesn't jump.

They go over to the table and sit down. She looks amused for the few seconds before Carey says, "I know you're immortal, but we're not. How do you know Mortimer's name?"

"Every so often, some wizard comes sniffing around vampire business." Caro smiles. Her lips are really red from the drink, and she looks so casually cruel PK's honestly kind of impressed.
"You see, wizards are too proud to consider using house elf or goblin magic. But vampires? Well, the rumor is we were once wizards. So naturally, wizards want to know how our magic...ticks."

"The rumor?" PK says before he can stop himself.

Caro looks at him and takes a long sip of her drink. "The rumor," she says. "You're welcome to try to untangle the truth of that. I'm sure you'll taste wonderful to whoever tires of your efforts."

"Caro," Carey says sharply.

"Ah," she says. "Yes: Mortimer. As I said, every so often, wizards come asking. I suppose someone helped him with his little project."

"You suppose?" PK says. "That's it?"

"What did you expect me to say?"

"He's using vampire magic to siphon magic away from wizards." PK's just self-aware enough to keep his voice down, but wow. He wasn't expecting to be this angry. "So, what, you think that's fine?"

"If he'd killed one of mine, I'd know. Otherwise? One more dead wizard."

"But secrecy -"

"Our secrets aren't mine to keep safe. I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"You talk a good game," Carey says, "but if you really believed what you're trying to sell us, you wouldn't have admitted to knowing his name."

Caro turns her gaze to Carey, who doesn't so much as flinch. "Very smart," she says. "As it happens, this particular wizard is more invasive than I'd really prefer."

"What do you mean?"

"He took someone," Caro says. "A witch."

"Melissa."

"An Anglo," Caro says, "yes. Let's just say I had my eye on her - until one day, I didn't. And I was powerless to stop him as he took her."

"That's it," PK says. "You're not worried about her being taken, you're worried about how you couldn't stop him."

"Wouldn't you be?"

Probably. PK's not going to tell himself he wants to be like a Muggle, not with his family's long history of magic.

"You had your eye on Melissa," Carey says suddenly. "You mean you wanted to turn her."

"I haven't for three hundred years. Will you tell me I should leave her alone?"

"You can't find her now," Carey says.

"She's in your safe house. Don't be a child."

Carey clenches his jaw. "Fine. You're ahead of us; you'll always be ahead of us. Why are you even talking to us?"

Caro looks at him for a long enough moment that PK's a little worried she's put him under thrall. Then she says, "Why do you think?"

Carey glances at PK, then at the other patrons of the bar. He leans back in his chair and says, "You're lonely."

PK can see, out of the corner of his eye, Carey's hand tighten on his wand. PK does the same.

"I'm lonely?"

"You cared about her. You don't like being made helpless, but if that was it you'd have found Mortimer and killed him already. It's beyond that. You don't want to jeopardize her safety - and now the secret's out, and you do feel responsible. That's why you're meeting with us. You know we can stop this."

"A generous interpretation of my actions."

"You're not going to call me arrogant?"

"It's true that you can stop it, in your own clumsy, human way." Caro shrugs. "I dislike society."

"So you live in Montreal?" PK can't help but say.

"I go where the food is," Caro says. "But I do care about her, you're right about that. And the others I know - they're restless. If we take care of this, it will get very messy. And that snake Martin will still stay in the Aurors headquarters, polluting what he touches. Once I cared about human justice, so now I am asking you: finish this."

"Good," Carey says. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Meaning?" Caro says.

Carey glances at PK. PK takes the cue and leans forward. "We recreated the spell Mortimer used. But we need your help on figuring out how to stop him, and the spell. We don't know nearly enough about it."

"Tomorrow night," Caro says. "Ten PM sharp. Your safehouse." She sips her drink. "Now go."

So they leave. PK does feel a little embarrassed, going into the cool summer night so quickly, but it's better than making her rescind the offer she just made. "That was intense," he says when they're safely back at Carey's.

"She's like that. But we got what we want."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

PK shrugs. "I wasn't expecting to get swept into a web of...vampire lesbian intrigue."

"Because there's something wrong with that?" Carey says sharply.

PK blinks at him. Then says, stupidly, "We kissed. We've slept together. I don't - no, it's fine."

"I meant the vampire part," Carey says, but he seems mollified. PK's going to leave it, because wow: that was weird. "And we're not...you know, you should go out."

"It's almost midnight."

"I don't care if you bring someone back."

"You're kind of crazy," PK says, and means it. He can tell Carey's trying to get even with his internal justice scale, though, which he does sometimes. It's not personal. So PK claps him on the shoulder and says, "I'm going to go to bed."

"Me too," Carey says, and goes back into his room so quickly PK doesn't even have time to point out he didn't take off his boots.

PK ends up hard that night, lying on Carey's couch. Normally, in this kind of situation, he'd just go to the bathroom and take care of it. There's no real reason for him to be resisting. He's gotten off on resisting before, but that's not what this is about. He knows Carey doesn't want it, knows that to Carey he's a partner who's done inconvenient things a few times. It feels dishonest to get himself off in Carey's apartment, knowing what he knows, even if he does think about the curve of Carey's neck and his long, strong arms and legs.

Instead, he screws his eyes shut and does his best to think about nothing at all. As it turns out, he succeeds; he wakes up the next morning with no real memory of even getting sleepy.

It's strange to be awake in the morning, after the hours they've been keeping. PK sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and tries to force his brain to work. It's not an easy venture.

Especially not when Carey comes out in boxers and nothing else. "Oh," Carey says thickly. "Fuck, I forgot you're here."

"It's fine," PK says. He gets up so quickly he hits the table, making his coffee slosh. "I can go."

"No," Carey says. "Relax. I'll be right back." He ducks out of the kitchen, skin blotchy all down his shoulders.

He comes back in pajama shorts and a shirt. "Coffee?"

"In the pot." PK watches Carey get some and very deliberately doesn't think about how domestic they are.

"I wouldn't've called Caro and Melissa," Carey says, sitting down with his coffee.

"No?"

Carey shakes his head. "I've never known Caro to care about sex, not really. She'll get kind of, you know - calling you a morsel. But she's not one to seduce humans."

Not like the vampires in wizarding books, then. "Maybe she really cares."

Carey nods. "She does. It's kind of weird."

"I think it's sweet," PK says. "In a way, anyway."

Carey takes a sip of his coffee, looking judgmental.

"I do. Being that old -" PK shakes his head, thinking of his family. "It would be hard," he finishes lamely. He doesn't know how to articulate what he's thinking, his sisters and brothers dying as he lives on.

"I have a big family, too," Carey says. "Speaking of. You should Floo them."

"Oh." PK blinks. It's been weeks. They knew he was going undercover, but he didn't even think of them, even now when he was thinking about them. "Oh, Merlin's balls, you're right."

"Hey." Carey kicks him lightly. "This is part of the come-down. Quit giving yourself shit and just do it."

"I'm going to shower first." PK finishes his coffee and stands. "You're good?"

"I don't need a babysitter, if that's what you mean."

"Obviously," PK says, and goes back to Carey's bathroom.

His clothes from the house are all here, so he summons some Muggle jeans and a shirt and then turns the water on. He waits until he's washed himself before he admits he's going to jerk off, but from there it's just a matter of doing it; he's already plenty turned on, just smelling the faint scent of Carey's shampoo. It's embarrassing, but as he comes, shuddering, he manages to care a little less than he has been.

Carey's living room has a fireplace, just like nearly all the Wizarding homes PK knows of. He tosses some Floo powder in, then sticks his head into the fireplace, saying, "The Subbans, Toronto."

His mother's sitting in the living room. "PK!" she says as soon as his head appears. "Is everything all right? You -"

"Hi," PK says awkwardly. "Everything's fine. Um."

It takes him awhile to explain everything - well, most things; he doesn't talk about Martin. No one else is in the house, apparently. PK quashes disappointment and promises to visit next week, before Malcolm and Jordan go off to school. He knows it makes him ridiculous, but he feels disappointed when he disconnects after almost an hour of talking. He'd like a hug from his parents, after all this.

"What about your mother?" PK says when he's cleaned up.

Carey, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up, shrugs. "I owled her. She doesn't tend to keep a fire running; I'll probably talk to her later today."

Carey's so much calmer about this that PK is honestly jealous. "Oh."

"I went to the library." The book Carey holds up, On Vampyres And Their Magick, makes it obvious he doesn't mean the Muggle library. "Do you want a copy?"

"Might as well," PK says. He can get through it before ten if he starts reading now.

Carey taps the book with his wand, and it obediently duplicates, glowing with the magic of the Quebec wizarding library. Carey tosses him the book, then goes back to his copy.

Carey talks to his mom, but aside from that they mostly read for the rest of the day. They've eaten dinner and have sat around nervously by the time 9:55 rolls around, at which point Carey says, "Let's go."

They Apparate to the street Carey's safe house is on. Carey leads PK to the house itself, PK doing his best to ignore the dizzying, almost sickening feeling that always comes with being led to an Unplottable, concealed location for the first time.

The feeling's died by the time they knock on the door - which is good, because it's Caro who answers.

"Come in," she says.

"It's my house," Carey says, brushing past her.

Caro's laugh sounds unnatural, like sandpaper against squealing styrofoam. PK winces, then says, "Where's Melissa?"

"In the kitchen, and so should you be," Caro says. "Come on. We need to get this done."

Melissa is, indeed, in the kitchen. It's a weirdly familiar scene, Melissa sitting and looking at magical artifacts on the kitchen table.

"Good to see you made it out," he says.

Melissa looks up. "The two of you gave me pretty thorough help."

"Still," PK says.

"As touching a show of generosity as this is, we ought to be moving more quickly," Caro says behind them.

She says it in French, of course, so PK switches, saying, "Sure. Carey?"

Carey nods and sits. Caro settles down, and the three of them look at Melissa.

She doesn't appear unnerved by the attention. On the contrary, she sits up a little straighter and says, "Caro's help has made this a lot simpler."

So they've been together all day. It's probably ridiculous for PK to be kind of surprised. "Have you figured out how Mortimer's keeping so much power?"

"It's a simple spell, really. What we did, with a few modifications." Melissa shrugs. "It was easy to untangle, in the end."

"So we can stop him?" Carey says.

"No," Melissa says. "Not that easily, anyway."

When she doesn't say anything else, PK says, "So how do we stop him?"

"With the power he siphoned from me alone, he could maintain protective spells that make the British Voldemort's Horcruxes look like child's play." Melissa sighs. "I wish I had good news, but the truth is, I have no idea how to stop him. There's nothing in vampire magic that can block him from using the spell, now that he knows it."

"And all the Aurors in Montreal wouldn't be enough to overcome that kind of power," Carey says.

It's not a question, but Melissa nods anyway. "Exactly."

"That's great," Carey says. His sarcasm, PK thinks, could cut through a steel door. "What excellent news."

"It could be worse," Melissa says. "As things stand, you have a very good chance of ensuring that Martin doesn't do that much more damage."

"Oh, well, in that case," Carey says.

Melissa shrugs. "If you don't want to look on the bright side, it's not my problem."

Carey pulls a face, but PK's focused on Melissa. She looks so much more comfortable and confident here in Carey's safe house than she did at any point in time in the house in the suburbs. PK guesses that makes sense, but he also wishes he had some way of judging how much of Melissa's calm is Caro's influence.

"Any suggestions for dealing with Martin?" he says finally, when it becomes obvious Carey's not interested in saying anything else.

"You have one thing in your favor," Caro says, sounding bored. "Martin is unlikely to have access to the vampire magic Mortimer's using. Ensure that he doesn't get it. I'm afraid we can't give more advice until you have the measure of your work environment."

That makes sense. It also makes PK feel incredibly anxious for the day ahead. "Thank you," he says finally. "I - we - really appreciate it."

Caro inclines her head.

"We should take one of these," Carey says abruptly, tapping the artifact Melissa enchanted with her wand.

Melissa raises her eyebrows. "Would you like to tell me why you think I'd give you one?"

"It can be used to store magic, which is good, but it can also be used to take magic. Tell me if you know of a more powerful weapon a wizard could possibly use."

"The killing curse?" Caro suggests dryly.

"All the post-Voldemort research that was done with that has rendered it less fatal," PK finds himself saying.

Caro looks at him. He feels kind of proud; she's more obviously surprised than she's been in awhile.

"Very well," she says finally. "You may take one, and only one. Don't try to make more. That spell you and Melissa tried was child's play compared to the one that rests in any of these."

"Thank you," PK says.

"It's not custom to thank a vampire," Caro says.

"You're helping us." PK shrugs. He picks up a necklace, a thick silver chain, and pockets it. "Our secret weapon," he adds, flashing Carey a smile.

"Be careful," Melissa says. She frowns a little. "I have Caro's protection. All you have is that necklace and your own stupidity."

"We survived an infiltration attempt," Carey says. "We can also survive Martin's idiocy. Will you two be staying here?"

"For the time being," Melissa says.

PK doesn't miss the frank look she gives Caro. It's kind of embarrassing, actually. "Great," PK says. "In that case, we're going to be in touch. Martin probably won't be following us as closely, especially not since he's going to give us an awful beat. We'll try to collect as much information as we can, and meet you back here in a week?"

"The blink of an eye," Caro says wryly. "Yes, I think that will work very well."

"Awesome." PK forces a smile, roughly a hundred times more cheerful than he actually feels. "See you then." He grabs Carey's hand and pulls him out the door, before Carey has time to protest.

"I could've handled that," Carey says when they're back in his apartment.

"I know," PK says. "But this is what a partnership is. And anyway, I know not being able to do much drives you crazy."

Carey scowls, but he doesn't protest or deny it. PK punches his shoulder. "So we'll get things done," he says. "But right now, we should rest. You should rest."

"I guess," Carey says. He half-mutters it, a sour look on his face.

PK laughs at him a little because, well, he can't help it. "Go shower," he says. "We'll want to arrive early tomorrow, and it's already pretty late."

Carey, to PK's surprise, actually does it.

PK wouldn't admit it to anyone, he doesn't think, but he's not exactly relaxed as they head into work the next day. The details of their assignment were vague, so it's not like anyone knows to expect them, or even has any idea where they were. But something about just strolling in still makes PK really uncomfortable. And it's not even "something", he thinks; it's the simple fact that Martin is an evil, murdering Dark wizard, and PK and Carey are expected to work under him, knowing that, and trying to take him down. It's like they're still undercover, only at the office PK's all too familiar with. And that's frustrating.

"Stay calm," Carey says to him quietly as they settle down at their desks.

"I'm as calm as could be," PK replies. He pulls out a pen and begins writing a report.

"Subban! Price!" Martin's voice materializes near them, barking loudly enough to make PK jump. He caps his pen and follows Carey into Martin's office, trying and totally failing not to feel apprehensive.

"Sir," Carey says when they get inside, nodding his head.

"Close the door," Martin says.

When it's close, he looks at them with distaste. "You failed."

"We did our best," Carey says. "But we were compromised."

"You're never compromised."

"I was this time."

PK, for a second, doubts Carey's strategy. Sure, he's lying, but he's not exactly subtle about it. PK can't help but think that the lack of an alibi, or any kind of substantiation, is going to seriously hurt them.

But then Martin relaxes and says, "Well. Since apparently the two of you can't handle an undercover case, I've assigned Plekanec to it. You two will be on the Muggle Artifacts beat."

The Quebec Aurors have a beat for wizards who've injured themselves with Muggle tools. It's boring, repetitive work, but right now, PK's relieved to be given it. "Thank you, sir," he says.

"You can work your way back up from there." Martin glances down at a stack of papers in front of him. "You may leave now," he adds. "Before you do any more damage."

When they get back to their desks, PK writes on a scrap of paper, well?

He doesn't suspect anything, Carey writes back. He was expecting me to mess up, especially with you.

His expression is neutral when PK looks at him, but PK's absolutely certain Carey feels nothing but disdain for Martin. Hopefully, that will make their jobs easier. Guess we should just wait for another wizard to injure himself, then.

Wait and plan, Carey sends back. When PK's read it, he taps the paper. It goes blank again.

They go out on two calls that day, summoned by reports that appear on their shared bulletin board. One man has given himself a mild shock with a plug he had installed in his home, and one woman got her hair stuck in a Muggle blow-dryer. They're both incredibly mundane and take around fifteen minutes each to resolve.

"I can't help but think," PK says when they Apparate back to Carey's apartment that night, "that it's kind of a massive waste of resources to have us both assigned to that."

"We were just undertaking one of the most dangerous assignments Aurors could have," Carey says, "and they don't even have to pay us senior salaries yet. So yes: it's a waste having us chasing down people who can't leave well enough alone."

"Also," PK says, "I don't understand why Martin would assign us to Mortimer's case to begin with, if he's working with him."

Carey shrugs. "Martin may not be that bright, or he was counting on us being killed in action. Or, more likely, he really did want us to take out Mortimer. He could collect the evidence, including Mortimer's discoveries and his power, and no one would be the wiser."

The latter had occurred to PK, but he hadn't wanted to think about it. Now, he does, and the back of his neck prickles. "I hate this," he admits.

"Me, too," Carey says. "Anyway, we should go to bed early. At three we're going to be breaking into headquarters."

PK nearly chokes. "Are you serious?"

Carey just looks at him.

"...stupid question, okay," PK says. "I'll, um, get dinner started."

He makes fried rice and they eat it in silence. He can see Carey slipping into character - what character, PK doesn't know. Whoever he has to be to break into the Montreal Auror's headquarters in an attempt to gather evidence, PK guesses.

PK himself does as Carey says and goes to bed early. He extinguishes all the lights in the living room, too; he feels kind of rude, but even as he does it, Carey says, "Goodnight," and goes upstairs. PK initially thinks he'll be up half the night, but it's barely eight before he falls asleep.

He wakes up at three sharp, his alarm charm - an invention PK's proud of, even if it is so minor it barely matters - jolting him awake. For a second he looks around wildly; then he remembers where he is and relaxes.

Then he jumps again, because Carey's sitting in the armchair, watching him.

"Tesla's mother in bed with a pig. I'll get dressed," PK says when he manages to breathe again.

"Sure," Carey says. "Creative cursing."

"I try." PK makes his escape to Carey's closet, where PK's clothes are.

When he's dressed, he and Carey cast as many concealment charms on each other as they can reasonably carry. They Apparate to the block the Auror's headquarters is on, but don't go in right away. Instead, they walk down an alley until they're facing the back end of the building.

There are no entrances and exits; this building has belonged to the Aurors for over a hundred years, and back then, they took security and their own place in Wizarding law a lot more seriously. But PK's been a wizard his whole life, and he's never made the mistake of thinking that no doors means he can't enter.

Carey sends him a questioning look, and PK nods; Carey would know PK can do this, if he's read PK's file. When he nods, Carey steps back, and PK lifts his wand and begins the spell.

Creating an entrance where there is none can be done a lot of ways. Magic can knock brick and mortar down, but that doesn't really help when a building is as fortified and likely to try to kill intruders as the Auror's headquarters. But PK knows spells that bend space and burrow through it, spells that make existing protection spells bend around them. By the time PK's done casting charms and heavier spells, the building hasn't outwardly changed - but there's a path leading into it, entirely free of any kind of magic.

To finish it, and make them able to go inside, PK steps forward and draws a rune on the brick with his wand. The light at the end of his wand fades as the rune sinks in, and PK presses a hand against the brick.

It goes straight through. He turns and grins back at PK. "One PK Special, all for you," he says, voice pitched low.

Carey doesn't answer, just brushes past PK and into the space. PK steps through, as well, and then they're in the basement. The building won't set off an alarm now that they're inside: they're Aurors, and the magic won't register that they shouldn't be here.

"Do you really call it the PK Special?" Carey says as they climb rickety stairs to the first floor.

"What else should I call it?"

"It's derivative of any number of spells. The traditional cloaking spell to get onto Wizarding transit -"

"Isn't nearly as great as my spell," PK says. "Anyway, relax. It's not like I'm going to sell it. Other spells like it exist, mine's just probably the best at making sure no alarms go off."

They emerge onto the first floor. Carey walks past reception like it's no big deal and into the huge room that houses, among other things, his and PK's cubicles.

Martin's office is on the far end of the room. PK tells himself that being jumpy would be stupid and follows Carey.

Carey lets himself into Martin's office so nonchalantly that for a single, blinding second, PK really wants to kiss him. Then he shakes himself and comes back to reality, saying, "Where should I search?"

"Look for hidden compartments," Carey says. "I'm going to go through his papers."

At least they're not Muggles, PK thinks. There's no reason to worry about hiding their fingerprints; they can cast a spell to scrub the scene of evidence as easily as breathing. It's technically a highly illegal spell, but then, so is breaking into the director of the Montreal Auror division's office.

He starts searching for hidden compartments in the desk, on the opposite end of it from Carey. It's an old, solidly-built wooden desk, and PK has to pay enough attention to his search that for a good half hour, he ignores Carey. He moves from the desk to the walls, and then to Martin's filing cabinets - but he doesn't find anything.

He can tell from Carey's frustrated fist landing heavily on the desk that Carey hasn't found anything either. "Damn it," Carey mutters.

"We'll find it," PK says. "This is a physical search. If he's used an Eternity Pocket -"

"We'll need to spend a whole night in here," Carey says. "I know."

An Eternity Pocket is just a dramatic name for a folded-up bit of space, created and made accessible by magic. It could be anywhere, and only Martin knows exactly what spell to cast to reveal it. PK knows there are workarounds, but Carey's right: it would take them way longer than they have right now.

"We should go home," PK says when he can't think of anything comforting to say. "There's no sense in staying and driving ourselves crazy."

"I know," Carey says. "This is step one. I know."

PK doesn't say anything. He knows they were both hoping Martin would be stupid enough to leave evidence in clear view.

"Let's go," Carey says after a long, tense moment.

PK leads the way out. The nicest thing about the PK Special is it's easy to close - PK says, "Done," and the spells snap out of existence, leaving the Auror building as it was.

When they get back to Carey's, it's only four in the morning. But PK's so keyed up he knows he's not going to sleep. "Hey," he says, then thinks better of it and falls silent.

But Carey pauses in going back to his room, turning around. "What?"

PK feels put on the spot, like he always does when Carey looks at him. "I'm probably not going to sleep," he admits.

He mostly just expects Carey to tell him to suck it up, or something. But Carey stares at him, the moment drawing out until PK feels like he has to say something.

He opens his mouth, and Carey shakes his head. Not just his head, actually, PK notices: it's a sort of full-body shake.

"Let's draw up a search plan, then," Carey says. He's not looking at PK now. Whatever was going on, the spell's broken.

PK is relieved. "Yeah. Good idea," he says, and they summon paper and settle down at the kitchen table together.

Two hours later, the sun is just starting to rise, and they have a workable plan of how to search Martin's office for Eternity Pockets, disguised documents, and other magic. PK yawns. "Maybe staying up all night wasn't the smartest choice," he says.

"You wouldn't have slept." Carey's voice is scratchy. "Coffee," he commands, waving his wand at the coffee maker.

PK really is wedded to the ritual, but right now, he's not going to protest. "Probably not," he says. He taps his fingers on the table. "This has turned into our base of operations," he says, smiling slightly.

"Different tables at the suburbs house and my safe house," Carey says.

"Well, yeah, but it's the same principle."

"True enough." The coffee maker hisses as they stare into space.

"Do you ever get scared?" PK asks before he can think better of it.

He expects Carey to snap or say something sarcastic. That's the Carey he knows - the Carey he came to know, after being partners for awhile.

But when he looks directly at Carey, Carey mostly just looks tired.

"Sometimes," Carey says. His hand clenches into a fist on the table, then relaxes, palm up. "Sometimes," he says again, and gets up.

He gets them both mugs of coffee. They sit slumped in their chairs, watching the sun come up. PK doesn't ask what's on Carey's mind. Personally, he's just doing his best not to think about having to spend another day on the Muggle Artifacts beat.

"Well," Carey says finally, standing, "we'd better get ready to go."

Right. PK tosses back the last of his coffee and goes to get dressed.

Two agonizing days pass. He and Carey agree not to break into Martin's office again right away; they both don't want to push their luck. Which means they're working the Muggle beat during the day, and going home to spend awkward time together, neither of them really talking about the impossibility of what they're trying to do.

On the third night, Friday night, PK says, "We should try again tonight."

Carey nods. "Absolutely."

"Before we widen the search outside of his office."

"No argument here."

"And you still think we shouldn't contact the Royal Aurors?"

Carey shakes his head. "We have no evidence," he points out, "and they're not likely to completely change one of their biggest branches based on two junior Aurors' claims."

It's a good point, but one that makes PK uncomfortable anyway. "You're right," he says finally, because Carey is, and PK himself needs to get that into his head.

"Three again?" Carey says, standing up.

"Works for me," PK says.

"Good." Carey claps him on the shoulder. "I'm headed to bed."

PK doesn't bother to say goodnight, still wrestling with how uncomfortable he feels. Carey doesn't wait for him to say it.

He wakes up at quarter to three this time. Getting into the building is easier the second time; it's also easier to go into Martin's office. PK's so focused on the job that it doesn't occur to him to be nervous until Carey says, "PK," in an urgent voice.

"What?" PK says. He turns around from where he was spelling documents to reveal their true contents - and almost falls over.

In the dim light they've cast shines a pale green orb. It's hovering near Carey's shoulder, tiny sparks of black darting over it. Carey's found an Eternity Pocket.

"I will admit," Carey says in a deliberately level voice, "I'm somewhat worried about reaching inside."

PK directs his wand at it and recites a series of charms. Slowly, it unfolds, casting its green glow over Carey's skin. The effect is eerie, doubly so when all that's revealed is a key.

"Think Martin was smart enough to put security on it?" Carey says.

"Only one way to find out," PK says, and taps it with his wand.

The key duplicates. PK reaches out and grabs the duplicate, ignoring the shock that goes through him when he touches the edges of the Eternity Pocket.

"Fold that thing back up and let's go," PK says. "I don't like this."

Carey puts the Pocket back where it was, and they leave quickly.

"Well," Carey says when they get back to his apartment. "This is both better and worse than it could be."

PK weighs the key in his hand. "I guess now we just have to find out where it's from."

"Some old-fashioned detective work," Carey says.

He doesn't sound that happy about it; PK can't really blame him. So far, they haven't really gotten any breaks or any easy answers. And the longer this goes on, the more people Mortimer has a chance to victimize. People like Melissa, who's going to have to live with a year stolen from her forever.

"Great," PK says, as unenthusiastically as Carey.

He's surprised when Carey covers PK's hand, curling around the key. "Take this and put it somewhere safe," Carey says. "Don't tell me where, don't tell me what spells you cast on it. You can get it this weekend, and we'll see if we can track down its origin. But just in case..."

PK nods. "Yeah, I get it."

"Good." Carey pulls his hand away. PK doesn't flex his fingers or anything, but he wants to; he feels burned from where Carey touched him.

After a moment more than long enough to be awkward, he says, "I should go to bed."

"You should," Carey says. "I should too."

They stare at each other.

PK wants so much. He knows it's the wrong time; he knows Carey might even be the wrong person. Probably is, really. He just...doesn't care. Looking at Carey, all he wants is to touch him.

Carey breaks first, unsurprisingly. "I'm going to go to bed."

He says it quietly, looking away from PK. PK shoves the now-familiar disappointment down and says, "Yeah, okay."

But he surprises himself when Carey gets to the stairs. Without thinking about it, he blurts out, "Do you get lonely?"

Carey stops, turns, and looks at PK. "What?"

"Do you get lonely?" PK says. "I mean - we were living in each other's heads, and now..."

"No," Carey says harshly. "I didn't want that."

"Right, me neither," PK says. "But you spend so much time alone, undercover. I just thought, I don't know, that maybe you didn't mind it so much."

Carey stares at him, and stares at him, until PK says, "Never mind," and turns around.

Then Carey stalks over to him, grabs his shirt, and hauls him in, kissing him.

PK's kissed too many people to react in any way other than kissing back. He kisses Carey and kisses him, arching his back into Carey's hand, grabbing a handful of Carey's hair. It's fast and hot and messy, and PK feels like he's going to break over how badly he wants it to continue.

When Carey pulls away, his hair is all messed up and his lips are red. PK's hard and aching, and all he can think when he stares at Carey is, I did that.

Carey looks panicked. Carey looks desperate. It's not a look PK really wants to see on him, but PK's pretty sure he knows what it means, and he's absolutely sure he knows what to do with it. He steps forward and kisses Carey again.

He tries to make it gentle. There's no reason for Carey to be panicking, PK tells himself, because this is about something they both want. But Carey makes it rough again, nipping at PK's lips and dragging his nails over the small of PK's back.

They make out standing up for what feels like forever. PK's not sure he's even done this before, standing kind of awkwardly in the middle of a room. But it doesn't matter, not when Carey's tucking his hands into PK's pants to grip the curve of his ass, or shoving his shirt up, or cradling PK's face.

When they break apart again, PK keeps a grip on Carey's shoulder. He doesn't want Carey to go anywhere. "Hey," he says when Carey stares at a point over PK's shoulder, panting.

Carey licks his lips - redder now, and swollen - and says in a scratchy voice, "PK."

"Carey," PK says.

Carey blinks once, twice, then shakes his head. He grabs PK's hand, tangling their fingers together, and says, "Come on. My bed."

PK manages to keep his full-body shiver mostly invisible. He makes himself say, "We don't have to."

Carey laughs, sounding wild. "I want to. Fuck, this is the worst case I've ever been on, and I still want to."

"Okay," PK says. "That's - yeah, okay." He offers a deliberately cheesy smile. "Let's do it."

Carey's expression shifts to surprise, and he snorts and shakes his head. "Only you," he says, then turns, pulling PK down the hall.

PK's not sure what he expects, but it's not for Carey to pin him against the wall of his bedroom and kiss him sweetly. He's so involved in it that he barely notices Carey's hands undoing his jeans, until Carey's pulling his pants down.

Then Carey's hands are hot on his hips, nearly skimming under his boxers. PK shivers and tugs at Carey's robes, then at the t-shirt underneath.

He wants to look, wants to lay Carey out and kiss him all over. But he knows they can't do that right now; he knows Carey will stop him if he tries. So instead he keeps kissing Carey and walks them over to the bed, pulling Carey on top of him.

"I could blow you," Carey says, rolling his hips against PK's.

PK shudders and tugs at Carey's jeans. "Whatever," PK says, kissing Carey's neck. "I don't..."

He stops himself, barely, from saying 'I just want to touch you.' Instead he offers a smile and says, "I'm good with almost anything, really."

"Well, in that case," Carey says. He sounds almost cranky, until PK moves up and kisses him, then sticks his hand in Carey's boxers.

Carey gasps and thrusts his hips. It's gratifyingly responsive, even moreso when PK kisses Carey's neck and Carey says, raggedly, "Please."

It sounds like he's revealing a lot more than just the desire for PK to keep going. PK wants to push at that, wants to know how long it's been and why Carey insists on hiding everything, but even with his dick running things, he knows now's not the time. Instead, he rolls them, pulling down Carey's boxers and saying, "Or, I could blow you."

Carey looks dazed. "Yeah, sure," he says, letting his head fall against the pillow with a thump.

PK can't help but smile. He lowers his head and licks Carey, long and slow, before pulling back and licking his hand, too.

PK's good at this. He knows it, and so do the guys he sleeps with. He likes doing this. But all of that doesn't explain why he's so intent on Carey, why Carey gasping and shifting a little in spite of himself is so gratifying. PK does his best to take Carey apart, playing with his balls and digging his fingers into Carey's hips as he goes down on him.

He doesn't make Carey come, though. Carey gasps, "Wait, wait," and PK pulls off.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. "What?"

Carey swallows and reaches up, pulling PK down to kiss him. Their dicks slide together, helped along by how slick Carey's is. PK groans into the kiss, because fuck, he was getting off on getting Carey off. A lot.

When Carey pulls away, it's to say, "Can I fuck you?"

PK doesn't always say yes. He feels like he should remember that, because when Carey asks, PK doesn't hesitate in the slightest before saying, "Yes," and lying down next to Carey.

PK's been with guys who have to use their literal wands for lubrication. Carey just opens his hand and it's slick, and then he's kissing PK's knee and pressing two fingers inside.

It's not slow or gentle, which is good. PK doesn't need that. What he wants is to feel Carey, all over, and that's what Carey gives him. PK groans and rocks his hips against Carey's hand, feet planted on the bed as Carey jerks him off and fingers him.

"Yeah," Carey says. He sounds wrecked. "I'm going to - here." His hand slows on PK's dick, then stops; PK spreads his legs a little wider and tilts his head to watch as Carey presses into him.

He's glad they're doing this face-to-face. Carey's eyes flutter closed, and he groans like it's been ripped out of him, fingers tight on PK's knees.

When he's all the way in, he opens his eyes and looks at PK. "Are you okay?" he says.

It sounds like a demand. PK's happy to answer it, nodding and saying, "Good as I've ever been."

Carey swallows and says, "You - you should get yourself off."

PK's not sure what he's trying to say; there's a meaning there that PK knows he's not catching. But he says, "Oh, I'm going to," stroking himself as Carey thrusts into him.

He loses track of time as Carey fucks him, in the best way possible. Carey stares down at him, intensely but not intensely enough to make PK look away. PK jerks himself off and reaches out to touch Carey everywhere he can, reveling in the feeling until Carey's rhythm breaks off, then stops entirely as he comes.

PK feels like maybe he should be embarrassed by how hard he comes when Carey touches his dick, but he's too busy feeling like his entire life's been made.

He's always sleepy after, and now is no different. Carey takes care of most of the practical details of cleaning up; PK just lounges, watching him. "You have a cute ass," PK says when Carey turns to look at him.

Carey scowls.

PK yawns. "When you stand up it dimples," he adds, burrowing into the covers.

"Make yourself at home," Carey says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

PK smiles up at him, then raises an arm. "Come on."

"Fine," Carey says. But when he gets into bed, he curls around PK, pulling him close.

It'll probably get too hot sooner rather than later, but right now, PK can feel the worries of the night draining away. Right now, he doesn't feel the need to think about Martin, Mortimer, or vampire magic. Carey's against him, breathing softly, and PK...PK feels really, really happy.

Hooking up is good for him, he concludes as he falls asleep.

He wakes up warm and being firmly gripped by Carey. He grins and rolls over, saying, "Hey, man."

Carey mumbles something incoherent and makes a face. His arms are still sort of around PK, and when PK gently jostles him, he kicks.

PK manages not to laugh, barely. But hey: they don't have anywhere to be right away, and Carey's clinging to him so much that PK's almost certain he won't be pushed away. So he leans in and kisses Carey, gently, cupping his face with one hand.

When he pulls away, Carey's blinking away. "Good morning," PK says. "It's Saturday."

That's kind of inane, but Carey doesn't push him away. He says, "Like I said, I'm going to blow you," and rolls on top of PK.

PK's familiar with how quickly Carey wakes up, but it's a little different to have all that focused on him. Carey strips him with ruthless efficiency.

What follows is pretty much the best blowjob of PK's life. When Carey finishes, PK pins him along PK's side and jerks him off, kissing him through it. They finally pull apart and Carey makes a face at him, but PK just smiles.

"Go brush your teeth," Carey says, rolling out of bed.

He sounds like someone's cranky grandpa, a comparison that's only somewhat creepy, considering he's just had PK's dick in his mouth. "Aye aye," PK says, and goes into the bathroom.

It's not until they've both showered and have settled down in the living room with coffee that PK remembers the key he hid, and the trouble they might be in. That makes him a lot more serious, a lot more quickly. He knows it's a problem; he knows they probably need more help than a vampire and an artifacts expert can give them. But he doesn't know where they'd find that help, or even what they'd ask of it.

Then he remembers Hal. "Carey?"

Carey looks at him over the rim of his mug.

PK takes a deliberate sip of coffee, then says, "What do you think about telling Hal some of this?"

Carey goes very still and swallows hard. "Why do you think we should do that?"

PK shrugs. "Why do you think we shouldn't?"

"I never said that."

"Can we stop pretending I can't tell what you're thinking?"

Carey scowls, but he says, "The more people we let in on this, the riskier it gets."

"Sure," PK says. "But that's not the only reason, is it?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"You don't trust him."

"I don't trust anyone."

He says it so casually, so sure of himself that PK wants to throw his mug of hot coffee at Carey's head. "Maybe you should," he finally manages to say, once the helpless feeling of wanting to do something about it and knowing he can't has faded a little.

"I think it's smarter not to."

"Okay, fine," PK says. "I guess it's beside the point what I think about that. But we need allies."

"We have them," Carey says. He finishes his coffee, then stands up. "I'm getting more. We can't tell Hal. Not yet. I'll think about it, okay?"

PK knows a compromise when he hears one. He hates that they're compromising, but he's also pretty sure that if he presses Carey, Carey's going to lose it. Not because he's convinced he knows better - even though he might - but because he really doesn't trust anyone, not even PK's own mentor.

"Okay," PK says. "Get your coffee," he adds when Carey doesn't move. "It's fine. Honestly."

Carey looks at him. PK looks back and manages not to shiver or do anything too obvious; he can feel the bruises on his thighs, though, when he shifts a little.

Whatever Carey sees, he doesn't let on. He just leaves for the kitchen, and doesn't come back.

Some time apart is probably the best thing they could have right now. PK doesn't feel comfortable leaving without backup, and isn't really interested in confirming with Carey about whether that's a reasonable worry on his part. So he stays in the apartment, but he holes up in Carey's study, far away from Carey.

He doesn't want to review the case or study the duplicate of Martin's key, so instead he pulls out a book. Carey has a surprising number of them, mostly on magical history, but a few fiction books. PK chooses an old Muggle thriller and sits down to read.

Muggle books are like reading in a language PK only half remembers. There are so many references to things he doesn't know about that he constantly has to pause to try and sum up what's happened. It's maybe not the relaxing time away from the case that PK really needs, but it's better than nothing. And besides, the book is comforting, in its own way.

PK reads until the afternoon. He'd read longer, really, except around one his stomach starts growling. When he goes out to the kitchen, it's to see Carey presiding over a stir fry with a dour look on his face.

He thinks, for a second, about sliding up behind Carey and putting his arms around Carey's waist. But they're friends who are hooking up, so he nixes the idea in favor of sitting at the table and saying, "We don't need to tell Hal."

"Are we still fighting about this?"

"We were never fighting," PK says, "not really. But we don't need to tell him."

"Sure," Carey says.

PK frowns. "I'm serious."

Carey dumps the stir fry onto two plates, then waves one over to PK. PK snags it from the air. "Carey -"

"I know you're serious," Carey says. "And I know I was a dick. There are going to be days like this. Especially since we're up against the Aurors, not just some Dark wizards who think they're better than they are."

"Okay," PK says. Carey's sitting down, but he still looks kind of angry. So PK thinks for a second before saying, "We meet up with Caro tomorrow. And Melissa."

Carey nods jerkily.

"So until then, let's just shelve it," PK says. "It's been almost a month. We've earned a day."

Carey looks up at him in surprise. PK makes himself stare back, as honestly as he knows how. "You know I'm right."

"You are," Carey says. He sounds rueful. "Okay, fine. A day. What do you want to do?"